


Independence Day

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, F/M, Parody, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-02
Updated: 2005-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike discovers an alternate reality populated by fandom cliches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independence Day

One minute he was walking beside Buffy, and the next minute he...wasn't.

It was as simple and abrupt as that. The graveyard where they'd been patrolling with a handful of potential Slayers was suddenly replaced by the main street of Sunnydale. In the blink of an eye, the gravestones and trees were gone, and the bright lights of the town center surrounded him instead. Spike stumbled forward in shock, missing his footing and falling ungracefully to the ground. He rolled to his feet and scanned the area. The streets were full of bustling people, but Buffy seemed to have vanished. He barely took notice of the fact that his sudden appearance appeared to have gone unnoticed by the crowds around him.

"What in the bloody hell...?"

Spike craned his neck and sniffed the air, confirming to himself that Buffy was nowhere in the immediate area. It was only then that he noticed that the air was significantly warmer than it had been five minutes ago. A quick glance at the night sky showed that the full moon he'd been expecting had been replaced by a thin crescent. Spike shivered, moving to one of the alleys to find some space and get his bearings. He frantically thought back to see if he could remember what had happened to him. He'd simply been patrolling with Buffy as usual, several of the Potentials in the general area and making far more noise than necessary. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary...had he? He couldn't remember saying or doing anything unusual, and yet here he was.

_A spell. It's got to be a spell of some kind. Gotta find Buffy._

Without any idea of what else to do, Spike cautiously exited the alley. When no one appeared to take any notice of him, he made his way quickly toward the graveyard that he and Buffy had been patrolling earlier that evening. When he had reached the end of Main Street, force of habit caused him to look at the televisions in the window of the electronics store there. What he saw made him freeze.

"...and that's the news for tonight. A happy Fourth of July to all of our viewers, and we'll see you tomorrow night."

"What?" Spike yelled. A passing woman gave him a slightly fearful glance and moved the far edge of the sidewalk. "No, see, this is all wrong. It's March. How did I just jump ahead four months?" Spike turned to the woman edging past him, grabbing her arm. She yelped and fumbled in her pocket, bringing out a clove of garlic and holding it up in a shaking hand. Spike let go of her in disbelief.

"Garlic? That's all you've got?" He rolled his eyes. "This entire town deserves to be eaten. Look, all I want to know is the date."

The woman frowned and looked around, as if scouting for hidden cameras. "This is joke, right? It's July fourth."

Spike ground his teeth. "The year?" he asked, almost politely.

"It's...2002?" It came out almost as a question. Spike blinked in disbelief, hardly noticing when the woman took advantage of his distraction to run in the direction of the police station. He was wrong. He hadn't jumped ahead. He'd jumped _backwards_ in time somehow, by almost eight months. If his memory was correct, which wasn't a fair bet, given how hazy the events of last summer were, he should be in a cargo ship right now somewhere over the Atlantic, on his way back from Africa. So how did he end up back in Sunnydale? Given the lack of pain when he grabbed the woman, he still seemed to be chip free. At least he had something going for him. Turning his back on the center of town, Spike ran for the graveyard.

The cemetery was completely silent. There was no sign of any of the Potentials, and no indication that Buffy had been there recently. Spike threw his head back and gave a roar of disgust, whirling around when he heard a faint noise coming from a grave several rows away. Ducking behind a tree, Spike edged toward the source of the noise. His heart caught in his throat when he saw what it was.

Buffy was fighting a newly-risen vampire, if the disturbed earth of the grave site was any indication. Spike almost called out to her, but froze, an icy trickle running up his back. She had been in a white top and a tight pair of tan pants when he'd last seen her, her hair pinned up at the base of her neck. The Buffy in front of him was wearing a pair of leather pants and a deep red halter top, her hair much shorter and swinging loosely around her shoulders. He thought he could smell a sweet aroma, something vaguely familiar that he didn't bother trying to place. Buffy gave a grunt as she drove the stake home, straightening up and brushing her hands as the vampire exploded into dust.

It was all Spike could do to keep silent. As much as he longed to call out to her, he decided to play it safe until he could figure out what was going on. For all he knew, this Buffy hadn't seen him since...his mind shied away from the memories. _Since you left to find your soul._ Spike wasn't any too sure that calling out to Buffy wouldn't lead to a dusty ending, so he slunk back under the tree and backed quietly away. Unfortunately, his boot caught on a tree root and he went down in a heap. He saw Buffy's head swing around as he fell, and he groaned. _Oh, perfect._

"Spike?"

He froze, holding himself absolutely still, but it was no use. Buffy's head appeared around the tree. He braced himself for her anger, and quite possibly her stake, but was unnerved when she grinned at him, then blushed.

"I thought that was you. What are you doing down there? I was looking for you. I was just at your crypt, but you weren't there."

Spike's mouth opened and shut without making a sound. "My crypt?" he asked weakly. Buffy nodded.

"Yeah, I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about, and...." She frowned. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Huh?" Nice, smooth answer there. "I mean, no." Taking the hand she held out, he let her pull him to his feet. When he started to draw his hand back, she tightened her fingers around his as though the gesture were the most natural in the world. What exactly was going on here? Buffy wasn't a hand-holder. Not with him, at any rate, and this unnerved him more than anything else he'd seen in the last hour. Buffy was still looking at him, frowning in concern.

"I guess I did hit my head a bit," he said, trying to cover, and almost flinched when Buffy reached up and ran her hand over the back of his head. The sweet smell became even stronger.

"No lumps," she declared. "You should be okay." Spike gave a rather sickly grin in reply.

"You were looking for me?" he asked.

Buffy's eyes widened, and the blush reappeared. _Interesting._ "I thought," she murmured, twining her fingers in his hair, "that we could have a little alone time." Pulling his head down, she placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Spike felt as if he was about to jump out of his skin, and certain parts of him rose immediately to attention. _It's not my fault, okay? Haven't gotten the touch in a while now. Especially not from...her._ His conscience put up a brief struggle, but only for about half a second, and then he was kissing her back. For a brief moment it was absolute bliss, and then he pulled back and started gagging. The smell, whatever it was, had become overpowering. There was still something vaguely familiar about it, though. In fact, it was rather like....

"Buffy?" he asked, taking a tentative sniff. "Do you smell...vanilla?"

Buffy frowned. "Only my shampoo. Oh, and my body spray. And deodorant. And the lotion I was using." She pouted. "You like it, don't you? I thought it was your favorite." She shook her hair, releasing another waft of scent, and Spike stepped back.

"Yeah, sure," he said quickly. "Nothing like the old bean." He suddenly remembered where he had smelled it before. At one point, Buffy had kept a sachet in her underwear drawer, and when Spike had...well, liberated some of her panties, they came away smelling faintly of vanilla. He recalled thinking the aroma was vaguely pleasant, but it was hardly the scent he associated with her. Still, it was probably better to play along. Buffy beamed at him.

"Come on," she said. Taking his hand again, she led him in the direction of his old crypt.

* * *

  
They made it there without further incident, stopping only briefly to dispatch a random Fyarl. Spike noticed that Buffy seemed to be distracted by his presence, and when she took a hard hit to the stomach, he jumped on the Fyarl's back and snapped its neck. He stepped clear of the body and walked over to where Buffy was holding her stomach and brushing herself off.

"You okay?" he asked. She frowned.

"Something's off. We're usually better than that."

He blinked at her. "We are?"

She nodded. "Usually we're completely in sync, like we've got the same mind or something. I guess it's because of all the training and sparring we do together. We're totally used to each other's moves. I don't know why we were off tonight."

Spike felt as if his head was going to explode. He was convinced that he'd fallen through the rabbit hole, and was currently wandering around the Sunnyhell version of Wonderland. "Yeah," he said, with an attempt at nonchalance. "When's the last time we, uh, sparred together?"

Buffy frowned again. "Just two nights ago, in the Magic Shop. It's our usual training time. Are you sure your head is okay?"

He nodded, distracting her with a quick kiss before grabbing her hand again. At least her tumble in the dirt seemed to have wiped off some of the overpowering smell of vanilla. He couldn't understand what she was talking about. Sparring? Training together? Since when? Yeah, for the past few months he'd been helping out with the Potentials, but it wasn't like they had a history of working out together. Although, he had to admit, that could be a bit of all right. He was imagining Buffy spread out on one of the mats in the back room of the shop, wearing one of those cute little sports tops and nothing else. He shook himself guiltily, and realized that they had finally reached his crypt. He followed Buffy inside, and his jaw dropped.

When last he had seen it, the crypt had been scorched and blackened, the stench of Suvolte eggs embedded in every surface. He had done his best to salvage what he could after Buffy and her ex had destroyed it, but it had made for a miserable couple of months. After he'd come back from Africa, he hadn't bothered to go back there. Now? The place looked downright homey. The surfaces were clear of cobwebs, and the chair in front of the small TV had a couple of pillows on it. Spike turned full circle to check out the changes, grinning slightly. He had a fondness for the place, and it was nice to see it in one piece again. When he swung back around, he saw Buffy disappear down the ladder into the lower level of the crypt. Swallowing heavily, Spike moved to follow her.

The downstairs was even nicer than the upstairs. His rugs were neatly in place, and several silk scarves trailed out of an open chest that stood near one wall. Buffy was...Buffy was on the bed. Buffy was on _his_ bed, sitting bolt upright and twisting a piece of paper in her hands. She smiled nervously at him, and the blush was back.

"Spike," she said softly, "there's something I've been meaning to say to you. And this is long overdue." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

If he couldn't sit down right at that moment, he was going to fall down. Spike stumbled over to one of the chests and planted himself on it, not willing to come any closer for the time being. "You're...sorry?" he asked faintly. Buffy nodded.

"Ever since I was brought back, I've been horrible to you. I've been a complete bitch." Her eyes welled up with tears, and she took a hitching breath. "I was hurting, and I took it all out on you. And after everything you did for me...you took care of Dawn, and you patrolled with my friends, and you never asked for anything in return. You were completely selfless, and I was horrible to you." She broke down, her face twisting up, and Spike stared at her, horrified.

"Are you insane?" He gave a harsh laugh. "You're apologizing to _me_? Oh, that's rich. Because I tried to get you to sleep with me out of the goodness of my heart. Yeah, that's it. And I never tried to separate you from your pathetic friends, or tried to..." he choked off, barely able to think the word _rape_ let alone say it. Buffy shook her head, her eyes luminous.

"You tried to get me to reconnect with the world. You're a good person, Spike," she said firmly.

Spike stood up and began to pace. "Yeah, I'm real good all right. Suvolte eggs ring a bell?"

Buffy frowned in concentration. "Those eggs you were holding for the Doctor? The ones that you were only keeping so that you could raise the money to pay my mortgage? Did I ever tell you how sweet you were?" She smiled sappily up at him, and Spike groaned in irritation. His own memories of the incident were slightly different. He wanted to shout at her, _I was the Doctor! The money was for me, you daft bint. Blood and smokes don't come cheap, you know._ But he couldn't bring himself to disabuse her, not when she was looking at him with those eyes. The thought of his own bad choices caused the guilt to well up again, but he pushed it down. No time for that now.

"Slayer," he said desperately. "I didn't..." He paused, correcting himself for this timeline. "I _don't_ have a soul. Doesn't that matter to you?" Buffy smiled serenely and shook her head.

"Nope. And that's what I'm trying to tell you."

Spike growled and rounded on her, his true face emerging. He didn't know what sort of spell had taken hold of this place, but it was making his skin crawl. "Do you want to know what I did when I found out I could hurt you?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. "Tried to bite the first woman I could find. I wanted to kill again. _That's_ what kind of man I am."

Buffy's eyes clouded briefly, and then she gave another smile. "But you didn't! You love me without a soul, don't you?" When he nodded, she relaxed. "That's all I need. I know you'd never hurt me."

Spike let his eyes slam shut. "Don't be so sure of that," he said dully. "And even if I didn't, what's to keep me from hurting someone else? Someone I don't care about?" Buffy's eyes clouded over again, and Spike took hold of her shoulders. "Come on," he ground out, shaking her slightly. "You're the Slayer. Protector of the innocents, and all that. This is not you!"

Buffy's eyes cleared, and she smiled sweetly. "I don't care about a soul. It doesn't mean anything."

Spike dropped down next to her on the bed and closed his eyes in despair. It was wrong, all wrong. Everything she said felt twisted, and it rang hollow next to his own memories. _You faced the monster inside of you, and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man. I believe in you, Spike._ For a moment, it was as if his own great struggle to redefine himself had been completely invalidated by this Buffy's sweetly poisonous words. He suddenly realized that she was talking to him.

"Here," she was saying, unfolding the paper she'd been holding. "I know I'm not good with words, but I heard this song on the radio the other day that just seemed to fit exactly what I was feeling. I wrote down the words so I can read them to you. I can't write poems like you do, so..."

Just a bloody minute. Song lyrics? _Poetry?_ And was he mistaken, or did he hear the faint sounds of a guitar suddenly start playing from out of nowhere? He had to get out of there. Desperate to stop her mouth, he grabbed Buffy and kissed her firmly. Buffy moaned and kissed him back, the wretched song lyrics obviously forgotten. He tried to pull away after a minute, but Buffy pushed him back on the bed and whipped off her top. He was lost. He had to leave, absolutely. Right now. Just one more minute...

It wasn't like he was cheating, he rationalized later. He and Buffy didn't precisely have an understanding, and it wasn't like he could tell her that he cheated on her with...herself. And so he switched his brain off and let himself get caught up in the feelings, desperate to avoid facing this reality he had become trapped in. He slid down and tasted between her legs, and it was exactly as he remembered it. She moaned and gasped above him, grabbing onto his hair as he licked and sucked at her. When she stiffened and came with a sigh, he crawled up her body and lay with his head between her breasts.

"Wow," she said faintly, and he couldn't help the slightly smug smirk. Yeah, soul or no soul, he still had it.

"Like that, did you?" he asked, brushing his fingers over her breasts. He felt her nod.

"Yeah," she said dreamily. "Except...you didn't say it."

Huh? "Say what?" he asked, slightly nervous.

"Ambrosia," she said. "You always tell me that I taste like ambrosia." He glanced up at her, and she frowned. "Or else it's 'bloody ambrosia'," she said, mangling his accent horribly. "Which, I gotta tell you? Kind of gross, actually, with the whole 'bloody' thing."

Spike shook his head wearily. "Ambrosia," he parroted obediently. "Got it. Taste as good as always." She grinned at him, settling down and playing with his hair as he mouthed her breasts.

"I was also thinking..." she trailed off nervously. "What do you think about claiming me?"

"Whatting you?" Spike asked, distracted by her nipples. She swatted his head.

"Claiming me," she said. "I know you want to. I was thinking that maybe it's time." She sounded remarkably shy, and Spike scrambled to pull his brain together.

"What are you talking about?" he asked honestly. She frowned at him.

"You know, claiming. You bite me and drink my blood and say, 'mine' and I say 'yours'. And then I do the same thing for you."

Spike blinked fuzzily. "I...what? Love, you've gone round the bend. Who ever told you that nonsense? Was it Giles? Because I'll have you know that those Watchers don't know a hell of a lot about vampires." He winced in horror. "Or else this is some of that Anne Rice garbage."

Buffy's face twisted in thought. "I don't know where I heard about claims," she said. "It seems like I've always known."

"Uh huh," Spike said drily. "And what's supposed to happen with this 'claim'?"

Her face brightened. "Oh, it's supposed to be amazing. I can read your thoughts and feel your feelings, and you can do the same for me." She broke off and looked down at Spike in confusion. "What?"

Spike did his best to smooth out his face. "Sounds...nice," he croaked, although he could think of nothing more horrifying. Sounded like some sodding schoolgirl's idea of romance. Desperate to distract Buffy from this train of thought, he returned his attention to her breasts. He was just heading south for a repeat of his earlier actions when she started talking again.

"Mmm, you're so much better at this than Riley," she moaned. "Riley never liked to go down on me. I think it grossed him out. He was pretty lousy in bed, come to think of it. _Way_ too big...uh, except where it counted. I don't think I ever got off with him. I had to fake it every single time. And the whole body heat thing? Ew, count me out. Having a big sweaty body next to you is not as fun as it sounds. Parker never tried it either. Of course, he was a complete jerk, so no surprise there. Angel...well, we only really had the one night. No time for experimenting, or different positions, or....Hey, why'd you stop?"

Spike didn't know if his face was mirroring the horrified disgust he was feeling. "Do you mind?" he asked. "Trying to do a job here, and you're off talking about other blokes."

"Oh." She blushed. "Was I saying that out loud?"

Spike nodded sulkily and abandoned her body, throwing himself onto the bed next to her. "Can't have been all that good if you were thinking about your exes during it," he muttered. Buffy pouted and kissed him.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "Let me make it up to you." And with one tug she opened his pants and dragged them down to his knees. Before he had time to collect his thoughts, she had grabbed hold of his slightly wilted erection and started squeezing and stroking. Spike fell back on the bed with a wheeze.

"Oh yeah," he managed to get out. "All is forgiven." As he squirmed under her, she leaned over and started to lick him. His hands went to her hair of their own accord, and he let his head fall back with a moan. He felt her open her mouth around him, and without any warning she dropped her head down. For one blissful moment he felt the warm, wet heat of her mouth and throat, and then she pulled away, coughing and gagging. Spike sat up, erection completely faded.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, trying to control her breathing. "I dont know what happened. I've never had that problem before." Spike rubbed her back soothingly.

"Why did you try to take it all at once like that?" he asked.

She looked confused. "That's how I always do it. Don't you remember?"

He shook his head wearily. "Refresh my memory, love."

"Well, the first time we..." she blushed again. "I'd never done that for anyone. Riley tried to make me, but I never wanted to. Not until you." As flattering as the statement was, Spike had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. One more little piece of history that seemed to have been altered. "So, I told you I wanted to try it, and you said I didn't have to, and I said I wanted to, and...I did it. And I just took you all the way in and swallowed, as easy as that, and you said it was the best you'd ever had and you couldn't believe it was my first time."

Spike rubbed his eyes with his palms, head spinning. "You know what?" he said faintly. "How about we take a break?"

Buffy rubbed his stomach. "It's okay. We've got a Scooby meeting to go to anyway."

"Yeah," he snorted without looking at her. "You go have fun with that." He needed to scope around, try to find out more about how this world was different from his. Buffy seized his hand and dragged him to his feet.

"Oh, no you don't," she said. "They'll be expecting you. I told them I'd be bringing you."

"Wait a minute," Spike said, pausing in doing up his jeans. "Your friends, they know about... _us_?" Buffy nodded.

"Of course," she said. "I told them a while ago. You were there. Remember, Dawn gave you a big hug, and Willow and Tara thought it was so cute? Xander gave you a hard time for a while, but he's come around." She giggled. "I think Anya was withholding privileges until he started behaving."

"Right," he said, with a rather sickly smile. "Let's go meet and greet, shall we?"

* * *

  
The Magic Shop looked exactly as he remembered it. Dawn was sitting on the stairs next to Tara -- and Spike blinked suddenly at seeing her alive again. Xander and Willow were at the table with Giles, and Anya stood behind the counter near the cash register. She looked up as Buffy and Spike came in together.

"Well," she chirped. "It's nice to see that somebody took a break from the orgasms to make the meeting."

Xander groaned. "Ahn, we talked about this."

"Anya," Spike said cautiously, and frowned when she raised her eyebrows in surprise. She was looking at him curiously, almost hungrily, and it made him nervous. He didn't know what kind of indiscrections he'd participated in with Anya in this timeline, but he thought it better not to risk too much eye contact. Buffy tugged him down for a long kiss, then skipped over to the table where Giles was cleaning his glasses to keep from looking at them too closely.

"So," he began. "Has the nest of Glaroth demons been cleaned out? Their mating season is approaching, and..." Spike tuned him out, wandering over to the counter and leaning against it. He let himeself half-listen as he scanned the shop. As near as he could tell, there were no apocalypses in the offing, and there hadn't been any unusual events -- nothing, certainly, that would provide an explanation for his presence here. He was tempted to casually make his way to the upper level and start checking the spell books, when he noticed that Anya was standing right behind him.

"Spike," she said in a low voice. "You seem...different." Spike shut his eyes tightly.

"Yeah, a lot of that going around," he muttered. "Hey!" Anya had grabbed his arm and spun him around, looking closely in his eyes. She let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob and closed her eyes briefly.

"It's you," she said in obvious relief. "Oh thank god, it's really you."

Spike frowned and studied her closely. "Anya?" he whispered. "What's going on here?"

"You have your soul," she said impatiently, "so this isn't your time. We don't belong here."

Spike blinked, casting a quick glance at the table. Buffy caught his eye and blew him a kiss. "We?" he asked under his breath. "You saying this isn't your time either?"

Anya groaned. "God, no. And this is nothing like I remember. Everything's wrong." She held up her left hand, showing him the ring on her fourth finger. "I'm married!" she hissed. "To Xander! And they think I've been completely human for years! I could perform a vengeance spell right in front of them and they wouldn't even see it." She glanced at the table where the meeting was continuing. "Do you want to get out of here?" she whispered. "It might make it easier to talk."

"Don't know," Spike muttered. "Don't want to make anyone suspicious." Anya rolled her eyes.

"Please," she scoffed. "They only see what they want to see, remember? They only hear me if I'm talking about money or sex." She turned to the table. "Hey, honey," she said brightly. "Spike's going to help me count the money so that I can get done early and have time to give you plenty of orgasms!" Everyone at the table chuckled indulgently.

"Sure, honey, no problem," Xander said with a smile.

Anya jerked her head in the direction of the training room, and Spike sidled after her.

"I can't take much more of this," she groaned once the door was closed. "I'm about to go insane. I've been searching for a spell to get me back, but I've got nothing so far. For some reason I can't contact D'Hoffryn in this dimension." She threw up her arms in agitation. "And Xander's been talking about children! I don't know what's gotten into him, or into anybody. This is _nothing_ like I remember it."

"Yeah, me neither," Spike said, then frowned up. "Hold up. Exactly how long have you been here?"

Anya appeared to be counting backwards. "Well, I appeared here right after the wedding. Which apparently went off without a hitch, this time around. So I guess I've been here for about four months, more or less." She squinted at Spike. "How long for you?"

"Just today," he admitted. "Not two hours. But something's wrong. You can't have been here that long. If you're really from the same time as me...well, I saw you this morning. You were yelling at Andrew to get out of the bathroom."

Anya's face lightened. "Yes!" she said. "All of the Potentials were at Buffy's place, so I decided to walk to Xander's to see if I could use his shower. And then suddenly, poof! Here I was, all dressed up and at my wedding reception." She caught Spike's frown. "Oh, you mean the time difference?" She waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. It happens all the time with interdimensional travel. One minute in one world could be one year in another. You can get some really interesting curses by playing around with different realities." She looked almost wistful for a moment. "Anyway, it makes sense that I could be here a lot longer than you even though it only seems like a few hours in our world."

"Well, I don't want to stay one minute longer than necessary," Spike said. "This world gives me the creeps, and not in a good way. No luck on your end finding a way back?"

Anya shook her head glumly. "If it's a spell, I don't know who has the power to do something like this."

Spike snorted and headed for the door. "I'm going to scout around. It's better than sitting on my ass out there."

"Count me in," Anya said fervently, following him out. As they snuck out of the store, Spike turned to her.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked curiously. "How'd you know I was different"

Anya gave a twisted smile. "You didn't call me 'Demon-Girl'," she said, "and you didn't call Xander 'Whelp'. I knew right then that you didn't belong here."

* * *

  
They ended up walking silently up and down Main Street as fireworks exploded overhead. Spike was doing his best to concentrate on a possible solution, but all of the noise was distracting. Anya appeared to be affected as well.

"Damn," she said, throwing herself down in one of the doorways. "It's too loud to think out here. We'd probably better go back inside until this is over." She picked herself up and gave a wistful smile. "Here's where it happened," she said. "Here's where everything changed."

Spike felt his muscles tense. "Right here?" he asked urgently. "Are you saying that this is where you appeared?"

"Yeah," Anya said. "You too, huh?" At his nod, she squinted up at him. "Do you think it means something?"

Spike scanned the street, settling on one of the dilapidated buildings opposite. "Hang on," he said slowly, walking over to peer in the windows. It was a dressmaker's shop, if the sign in the window was anything to go by. **ALTERATIONS** , it read, and then in smaller letters underneath, **We make things right, the way it should have been.** Spike turned to Anya.

"You ever seen this place before?" he asked. Anya shook her head with a frown.

"I could swear I know every dress shop in Sunnydale, but this one is completely unfamiliar."

It was too good to simply be a coincidence. With a glance at the empty street around them, Spike tried the door. It was unlocked, and they crept inside. Anya found a switch on the wall, and gasped in shock at what was revealed.

If it was a dress shop, it was unlike anything that either of them had ever seen. One entire wall was taken up by a bank of filing cabinets with the words _Fanon Patterns_ hanging on a sign above. The individual drawers had odd labels: _Vampire Claims_ ; _Blood Tears_ ; _Slayer Muscles, Kegel Exercises and_. Spike was about to pull open one of the drawers when Anya nudged him.

"Look," she said quietly.

Spike turned and saw a mannequin leaning against the far wall. What was so unusual was that a color photograph of a woman's face had been taped over the mannequin's head. The body of the dummy looked to have undergone severe fire damage, and the features were almost obscured by stab marks. An identical photograph was taped to the wall in the center of a large bull's-eye, and numerous darts were stuck into the wall around the picture. There was a name printed under the bull's-eye in large dark letters: _Marti Noxon_. Anya shivered.

"Wow," she said. "Whoever owns this place must really hate her."

Spike caught sight of another door at the far end of the shop. It was padlocked shut, and **~~CANNON~~ CANON** was branded across the wooden surface. Spike tore the padlock off with one jerk, wrenching the door open. He gasped. Through the door was the graveyard he had disappeared from. He could see Buffy, _his_ Buffy, talking to one of the Potentials. He was ready to weep with relief.

"Looks like our way out," he said gruffly, and Anya rushed over to peer through the door with him.

"Let's go," she said fervently. "I'm ready to get back, especially before the owners of this place show up."

"You sure?" Spike asked with a smirk. "You could stay here forever and talk orgasms with your hubby." Anya shuddered and gave him a shove through the door, following him out. As soon as they were through, the door vanished as if it had never been there.

"Why were we there? What do you think they wanted from us?" Anya asked as they strolled over to where Buffy was instructing one of the girls.

Spike shrugged. "Don't know, and I don't much care."

He caught Buffy's eye, and she smiled gently at him. He grinned in return. It was good to be home.

 

 


End file.
